


Whatever works for you

by Fangu



Series: Balfran smut (and kink) collection [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Cumshot, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangu/pseuds/Fangu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ffamran would stop, Ffamran would end this ridiculousness; Balthier chooses to be bold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever works for you

At seventeen, young Ffamran ran away from his profession as a Judge of the Archadian Empire, from his scientist father gone mad. A soldier is always in constant need to deprive himself. Young Balthier at nineteen does not, and young Balthier will not be denied, and so he rarely is.

There is but one exception to this rule.

He knows it is common for females of the Viera race to dress minimalistic, yet somehow he can’t shake the feeling that his tall, clawed, silver haired, rabbit-eared, dark skinned companion in front of him dresses the way she does for him. Not for his enjoyment - perhaps for her own. Fran has made it clear she does not intend to involve herself with him in any other way than as his co-pilot, mechanic and partner in crime. Upon this prerequisite when first put forward, Balthier of course agreed wholeheartedly, saying it would be liberating being around a woman he didn’t have to pursue. This was, of course, a lie.

Her hearing, sight, and even her perfect, perky nose are all excellent, but she’s yet to grow eyes in the back of her head. As she stands right now, arguing in some foreign tongue with a Seeq to let them pass through the gates to the streets of Nalbina, Balthier is allowed another peek. _It’s your own doing_ he thinks as his eyes wander pleased up one leg to rest on her well rounded backside, the skin barely covered by her black garb. Her pony tail bobs up and down, side to side over her arse as she speaks; clearly this Seeq is troubling her. He sighs pleased. A pestered Fran is a wonderful Fran. If his luck is with him, she’ll pick a fight with the guard, which will be lovely entertainment right up until the point where he’ll have to drag her away from the Imperial guards.

When she turns swiftly on her tall heels, silver pony tail whipping, Balthier’s eyes quickly finds her face.

“He says the market is full today,” she huffs as she approaches him, red eyes beaming even for the sun. “Too many pirates to handle for their guards.”

“Well I can’t say I blame them.” Balthier yawns, stretching his hands to rest behind his neck. “After all, they did experience a few jewellry thefts to a certain set of slender, clawed fingers the last time we were here.” He grins. Fran’s expressions are always hard to read, but Balthier can see she is less than impressed. “They were Archadian merchants,” she mutters. “From Archades.”

“Archadians deserves to be robbed then?”

She blinks very slowly, looking bored. “I have never been ripped off more in my life than in the city of Archades.”

Balthier lowers his arms to stretch them. “Anyway, it appears we’re not going to shop at the vendors of Nalbina today. There must be something else we can do. Fly back to Balfonheim, perhaps? There might be new bills.”

Fran tosses her head so strands of silver dances. “Seems there is naught else to do on this cursed day.”

Balthier hums as he follows her towards the desert where his airship The Strahl is hiding, hanging invisible a few hundred yards above ground.

It’s a remarkably hot day. As soon as they’ve boarded the ship, Fran flings her helmet and jacket onto her bed in the narrow room leading into the cockpit, Balthier doing likewise to his gun and vest onto his own, placed opposite Fran’s. When she sits down in the co-pilot’s chair, she immediately gets to work unstrapping her black leg armour, throwing them onto the floor, massaging her temples with a hand. “This ship takes forever to cool down,” she grits. “Aye,” Balthier replies, loosening his shirt from his trousers as he fires up the ship’s glossair engines.

It takes them the afternoon to reach Balfonheim, and by the time they land, the cockpit is nice and cool. “I do not think I can be bothered with the intimate humidity of The Whitecap tonight,” Fran says. “You go on if you want to.”

Balthier has not had a woman in weeks. In the corner of his eye he sees Fran’s brown, tall, naked legs as she leans back into her chair to fan her chest with an old newspaper. He intends to go, and he intends to get lucky.

But Balthier’s luck is not with him. When he returns from the Whitecap a few hours later, he is grumpy and frustrated, sitting with an half erection all night chatting up a girl who seemed to be in on his game. In the end, he couldn’t even steal a kiss, and Balthier has learned he is not into prostitutes.

The room in which they sleep is dark when he returns. In Fran’s bed is the tall, slender figure of Fran laying under her cover. Balthier strips off his shirt and shoes, sits down to wiggle out of his trousers and tips down on his bed, pulling the sheets over himself, sighing.

He lies still for a few moments, glaring at the ceiling over his bunk. He can’t even hear Fran’s breathing - everything she does is so quiet, so delicate. At times, it feels like her entire existence is a mocking to his.

“I assume you were denied what you desired?”

Balthier grimaces. “You assume correctly, my dear.” 

Her voice is a taunt. “I should think this means you will relieve yourself by the privacy of your covers tonight then?” 

Balthier flinches. “Eh?”

He can hear she is smiling ever so slightly. “You are forgetting my ears. My dear.”

At first, this piece of news regarding his self relieving, which he thought he’d managed to pass by her unnoticed, makes him uncomfortable. Then he remembers he is Balthier now, and Balthier does not deny himself anything. 

“I am a man,” he snorts. “I have needs.”

“No need to apologize. I have lived with pirates and soldiers both before. Was I a young girl, I would perhaps see it differently, but it is a very long time since I even resembled a maid.” She snickers. “I find it charming. Do you think about me?”

Balthier thinks about his list of updates for the Strahl. He has a very vivid image of bumping ‘sealing beds into separate chambers’ going to the top. If Fran is to stay clear of him, she will not amuse herself, whichever way it does, by listening to his quiet whimpers of relief for his insufficiency at taking a wench to a room for the night.

He intends not to speak, but in the corner of his eyes he notices Fran sitting up in her bunk, her white sheets barely covering her meager chest, white ears stretching up the wall behind her.

He turns his head to look at her, sheet pulled all the way up to his chin. 

“We both know you usually would by now. I will save you the embarrassment of trying to pretend to not hear you, and instead watch openly.”

“You… _what?_ ”

She tilts her head, eyes glowing red in the darkness of the room. “It is one of your imagined scenarios, is it not?”

He’s ashamed she reads him so well, and will certainly not have her mocking eyes on him as he jerks himself off. At the same time, his groin is starting to ache. This erection is painful, pressing determined against his briefs. Does it take confidence to not act on her request, or the opposite? What would Balthier do?

He laughs. “Surely that would be breaking every protocol of good companionship.”

“Breaking it more than having your eyes on my backside on a daily basis, is it? Than your arm sliding around my shoulder whenever you have had too much Madhu?”

Balthier grunts. It appears he hasn’t been as stealthy as he would like to think. He shouldn’t be surprised Fran has noticed.

“Let us not play games. I will not give you what you wish, but I would rather stop pretending I do not know said wish is there. Show me.” There is a smirk. “You might enjoy it.”

Ffamran would never, but Balthier has learned the important lesson of taking a chance. There are many things he does in his life as a pirate that scares him, but he’s gained more from not holding back than its counterpart. Balthier will stumble, but he rarely bleeds.

And Balthier, strangely enough, trusts Fran.

He pulls the cover away from his body in one, swift, dramatic motion. He looks at her, stubborn, then pulls down his briefs with a brisk movement, throwing them down into the corner of the bed. He knows he will get no readable reaction from the Viera in the other bed, yet he glares at her as he grabs his cock with one hand, the other placed on his stomach. He puts his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes.

That beast of a woman. There is something about her, the way she is around him: He can’t make himself _not_ follow her wants. He can’t figure out why exactly it is she wishes to see him get off in front of her. Is it dominance? Curiosity? Fran is too old, too experienced for Balthier to even begin to understand her, yet that’s what makes the mystery that is Fran, the mystery to which he is finding himself an addict.

Strangely enough, it does not take much to spark his lust to the level where his head is slightly ringing and his abdomen is tingling. His grip is firm, moving with even strokes. He feels his face flush, and in this daze, he appears to have grown bold.

“Are you enjoying this?” he murmurs.

“Are _you?_ ”

He grins. “I asked first. Do you not wish you were in here with me instead?”

“I have already shared my opinion on this matter. It has not changed.”

“You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met. I would, you know. Oh, but you know already.” He laughs and breathes through his teeth as his cock stiffens further. “You know I would have you in a heartbeat, and I think it would be delightful. Are you sure?”

“What makes you think I would find you sufficient?”

His hand pauses.

It’s a low-blow if there ever was any. She has full view to his mandom in its most erect state, all of his skin laid bare for her, and she would say a thing as this. He opens his eyes to watch her white-clad frame in the darkness, where she sits, tall, relaxed, more beautiful than most women in all of Ivalice, more skilled and experienced than most men.

“Why are you stopping?” she asks.

He snorts. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I was merely being honest. You know I never tell lies. You asked.”

Ffamran would stop, Ffamran would end this ridiculousness; Balthier chooses to be bold. Balthier has already had more women than Ffamran ever would in his lifetime, and he never would if he never dared to risk failing. His hand begins to move again, this time watching her as he strokes. His other hand reaches to play gently with his balls, and soon his breath is uneven, rasping; he stares at her knee as it’s escaped her sheet, stares at her shoulder, her mouth, and will not be denied.

“Will you blow now?”

“I might,” he pants. “Yes.”

“Onto your chest?”

He laughs. “Probably, yes.” His breath catches.

She quiets.

“Is there more? That you have imagined doing?”

 _All of it_ , he thinks. _Looking at your rear day in and day out does things to a man_. “Probably,” he gasps, again.

“Come here.”

He might be so pent up with lust at this moment he’s imagining things, but her voice sounds to him all of a sudden thin, hoarse.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t have me.”

“That is unchanged.”

By this realization he swallows, choking almost. He knows she might be toying with him. He doesn’t know what he’s stepping into, but he no longer has the wits to be scared. Naked, cock poking upwards, he gets out from his bunk and moves towards hers.

“Sit here,” she says, lowering her knees, sliding down in her bunk, her sheet dropping to reveal one breast; she does not cover it up. When he puts a knee on each side of her thighs to sit down, she tugs at the sheet to reveal the other. Blood pumps hard through his system as he moves quickly to stroke again, this time hard. He braces his free hand against the wall over her ear.

“Will you still not touch it?” he whispers, his cock but inches above her stomach.

“No.”

He is near, so very near, yet it is hard to let go: Fran’s face is dark beneath him, her eyes piercing him as she watches his face closely. He stares at her breasts, nipples dark and hard; he knows she let them bare for a reason. The air is tight, too tight, her thighs warm under his arse. This moment is somehow more erotic than almost all of his one-time encounters.

“Last chance,” he breathes, gasping, but Fran shakes her head, soft, silver hair bouncing around her face, her beautiful face with piercing eyes: Those eyes, calmly watching his as she waits for his release, her full lips parting ever so slightly.

His balls pound, aches; then he shudders, moans, as he feels his seed shoot for her. He doesn’t know if he really intended to unload where he does - but he’s coming so hard his first load hits her right next to her mouth, going on to hit her neck and breast next, a white streak running down her skin. As the orgasm fades, he finally manages to tilt his cock downwards.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, looking at the wetness on her face.

Her voice is dark, eyes glowing red and vibrant as she looks up at him. “I believe that is the first time I have ever heard you say those words.”

Balthier glares at her, not knowing what to make out of her. He believes he’ll never understand her - but he does know he is in awe; at times petrified, yet still in awe.

He moves to find her a cloth or a towel, but Fran wipes off the wet with the edge of her sheet, curling up content under the dry parts. Balthier stumbles back to his own bed, getting his handkerchief out of his trouser pocket to push the remaining sperm into it, wiping himself clean.

“That stuff… dries up quite sticky, you know,” he tells her.

She snorts. “I know.”

Still dazed, he slides in under the covers. He watches her as she lies curled up under her own.

She yawns. “My life wouldn’t be half as amusing without you in it, Balthier.”

“You’re the one to speak,” he mumbles, already half asleep. “You incredibly strange beast of a woman.”

If Balthier was Viera, he would hear her lips curl into a smile against the sheets.

 


End file.
